Blanc-Mange

Standard

It was the winter of the human soul
When people ate the snow
To go in Buchanwald
And after for dessert
Had ices that they turned into
And Buna too
Then Auschtwitz where they
Dare believe that we
Would never let it be
But we had leave
Because it was not us
To hide our face away
And trust it was not so
You know we did
Too late to stop the hate
From making fingers
Rake the snow to go
We know we did this thing
Deny before our eyes
Make lies to be our bed fellows
Disguise the truth
To find too late
It was to change the fate
Of hate on motions train
On tracks that drove
Them to the gates
Of hell we made
Eat up your frost and snow
And clear your plate
It was the winter
Of the human soul…too late!

© K Barr

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